Sympathy with a Host Species
by g21lto
Summary: Visser Three's straightforward investigation of a potential traitor within the Sharing morphs into an obsession with discovering not only the man's ultimate loyalties but also his unusually successful career and suspicious lack of desire for promotion.
1. A Visser Reminisces

_Obligatory Disclaimer: I don't own Animorphs or any of the characters created by K. A. Applegate, and I'm not making any money off this._

_Author's Note: This story is set at some time midway through the series, necessarily after #12 (The Reaction) and before #45 (The Revelation). The title is taken from a species of treason charge in the laws of the Yeerk Empire – treason by sympathy with a host species – which features heavily and is committed by more than one character before all is said and done. And though the story is Yeerk-centric, we _will_ see those pesky Andalite Bandits make an appearance at some point. Enjoy!_

Humans do not interest me. I must work among them, but I will never regard them with more than a passing indifference. They are, as a species, basically boring. Only a few of my experiences overseeing their enslavement will stay with me, and few of those had to do with humans directly.

No, humans do not interest me – unlike my predecessor, I will not walk among them to learn their ways. Interest breeds love, or at least hate. I do not concern myself with our host species.

…no, that is not entirely true. I once studied the Andalites with more fervor, even, than the fervor with which Visser One immersed herself in humanity. I…you understand the danger…I do not _love_ the Andalites – that is the difference. I regard them with an interest that transcends love and hatred, but incorporates both. Perhaps it is not so paradoxical. One thing that humans have taught me is the uneasy yet familiar cohabitation of love and hate. Indifference, cool, clean, uninvolved indifference, is the opposite of both hate and love. Thus love and hatred coexist uneasily in the same sentient mind for the same object.

You doubt. Do I seem to speak treason? Don't think of it as a lesson from the human race – it was only incidental that I gleaned this truth from a human. No, I am no traitor. I am indifferent to the human species. In fact, I can think of only one memorable incident in my years on Earth which has directly involved humans.

Strangely enough, this was one of those very few Yeerk affairs on Earth in which I, as ranking Visser, played the role of interested observer. Barely involved. For a military officer who spends his time on Pool or Blade Ship detail, it is always amazing to discover how much the subjugation of a planet is bureaucratic instead of military. Amazing and fatiguing. I am a Warrior. Yet part of my war is now management, budget, overseeing insignificant events which lead ultimately to thousands of infestations – I have my hand in everything. For retiring war to an afterthought, I am busier than I ever am in my native element.

And then, always, inevitably, is the bandit band of Andalites still operating on the planet's surface. Mere nuisances. Disturbing anomalies. This story isn't about them – well, only partly. Everything on Earth involves them in some way or another. Inevitably.

My main duty, planetside, is to head the Sharing, an organization begun by my predecessor to further the invasion. The Sharing is a front organization that masquerades as a human social club. The invasion force uses it to induct voluntary – and involuntary – hosts. It is simultaneously one of the most convenient and most frustrating aspects of operating on Earth. Humans come to us and literally beg to become our slaves. It is almost sickening, their need for belonging, upon reflection. But it is very good for the Empire. Still, the Sharing is, if you take it symbolically, the pinnacle of planetside bureaucracy. Conquest through paperwork.

But it's effective. That's why I hate it – I can't help but need it.

As you can imagine, the key to the Sharing's success is the image it presents to the human population. Our human controllers have adopted the phrase "public relations" for this. My role in public relations is minimal, that of an overseeing manager. I don't understand it nor do I have any wish to – humans interest me only so far as they are suitable hosts. The human-controllers are in charge of this effort.

This was how I first came in contact with David Smith – Temrash 213. He was a human controller, about midway up in the invasion bureaucracy. I saw his name signed to several of the public relations pitches that crossed my desk over a few years. There were hundreds of controllers in this capacity, you understand – hundreds of proposals a month that I saw, and approved, or vetoed. The only reason Temrash 213 made an impression on me initially was that, one day while I was reviewing paperwork, I came upon a PR proposal of his. He had written an explanatory letter and signed it at the bottom, "_Dav__ Temrash 213, Sulp Niar Pool_." He'd begun to sign a human name, his host's name as I discovered later, then crossed it out and signed his real name.

I am well aware that many Yeerks take on the name of their host, not only for interaction among humans but among each other. This was contemptible to me, as it still is. I made a mental note of David's – Temrash's – name and occupation. I am sure I forgot about him for the next Earth year or so. The Andalite fleet arrived and I crushed them. The Andalite Bandits surfaced planetside. The Andalite Bandits destroyed the Kandrona. By this time Temrash must have been important enough to save, because he re-surfaced immediately afterward with a new proposal to promote the Sharing among the humans. Human society places a large amount of importance on certain persons called "celebrities." Temrash suggested that the Sharing pay "celebrities" to say positive things about the organization. Over the next few months he sent me a list of these humans, finally settling on one with the name Jeremy Jason McCole.

The effort became a fiasco.

Those who create fiascos on my planet do not live much longer.

Temrash did. Temrash did because the day after the Bandits attacked our "spokesman," Temrash sent me – sent me personally, not just released into the bureaucratic ocean that eventually feeds to my desk – a report showing a spike in Sharing membership after McCole came out in our favor. That made an impression upon me – most subordinates can't think clearly enough through their fear.

Looking back, that was a strikingly unusual display of magnanimity on my part. I don't tolerate failure – and the only true rule is rule through fear. It is the only way to safeguard, to ensure obedience. Some vissers will talk of building camaraderie with their troops, will speak of managing by creating relationships and through psychological theories. Here's my psychology: fear equals obedience. And that creature which will not obey to stave off death will not obey for any reason. Rule by fear is the law of nature, the greatest efficiency, born from eons of evolution.

And then, another reason he lived is my admittedly whimsical love of irony. I'd completely forgotten _who_ had proposed the McCole plan – until his defense ended up on my desk. He would have been perfectly safe if he hadn't brought my attention on him. By sending me his defense, he put himself in needless danger.

So yes, I kept him alive partly to amuse myself with the ironic circumstances of his survival. He was a pet of indifferent chance. So kindly she led him to his doom – if not for my amusement.

He doesn't know any of this, though after learning more about him, I think he may suspect it – he's nothing if not perceptive.

His plan had also been productive. Yes, he was very productive.


	2. A 'Major Threat' Arises

_If results are God, then the invader-bureaucrats are pilgrims seeking Him. Reaching for holiness after ever higher holiness. Selfish reasons not to be ignored, of course. Once long ago I was a sub-Visser on the homeworld of the Hork-Bajir. I was the truest pilgrim of the lot – my god one most Yeerks hadn't yet been convicted of. Once not so long ago I was a sub-Visser on the homeworld of the Taxxons. There were no pilgrims there but the self-made variety._

_I alone kept the faith._

_Does it ever surprise you to realize that as you become holier, more and more do you resemble an atheist? That as you realize more gods, your pantheon diminishes?_

_It is only during ponderings like these that I realize the war will never be over. Peace, you say? Eventually defeat the Andalites? I want no peace. Traitor? It is the traitors to the Empire who will destroy her through peace._

_I keep the faith._

There are two levels of membership within the Sharing. The Inner Sharing is purely Yeerk. Human controllers, hosts who have joined us willingly, plus the odd human who learned the truth and had to be taken to ensure our secret. The Outer Sharing is purely human, interested outsiders, potential hosts. Those the Inner members are working on, cajoling, enticing with the joys of being a member of the Inner Sharing. I have often wondered what is said to these humans to make them desire so to join us.

Now I know, or at least know in part.

Like I said, this is one of those very few affairs in which I wasn't primary mover.

As the figurehead at the top of the Sharing's leadership, I have to put in appearances at several Sharing events a month. There are several dozen affiliate cells of the Sharing spread along the coast of one of Earth's large landmasses. I must put in appearances at all of them at some point. Those in charge of the Sharing tell me it is heartening to the Outer members to see their leader – an ironic turn of phrase, is it not? – visit them at least once every two months.

That means a lot of planetside engagements. Incidentally, I think Temrash came up with that number, that figure of two months, as well. Curse him.

In any event, two levels of the Sharing, as neatly segregated into "us" and "them" as you could like. As planetside endeavors go, on different fronts of the galactic war, this is wonderfully clean. I show up and give a "motivational" speech prepared by my human controllers, usually half an Earth-hour of drivel about cooperation, togetherness, and tolerance.

I'm usually thinking something overtly cruel during the speeches – one of the few pleasures I still have, childish though it is. Humans do so irritate me, and an entire roomful of the creatures, mostly young, in their idealistic phase, so susceptible to the eloquent and wise words coming out of my mouth, staring at me with those wide, credulous eyes…I nearly feel the need to retch.

And so it was the night I first became convinced that Temrash was more alarming than just another name on paper.

"Tolerance," I intoned, looking around at my audience. Young humans, some bored, some rapt, all members of the Outer Sharing. "It's a word we hear a lot nowadays – a word we hear a lot and see very little of. Tolerance is a virtue taught in our schools. But try putting on a different skin color and walking around for a day. _Then_ you will see how 'tolerant' society is."

"Our churches teach love and acceptance, but take a trip to the local gay and lesbian support group, and see how 'loved' and 'accepted' those people feel." The young humans were nodding now, many looking quite convicted and full of righteous anger. I continued, making a mental note to ask one of my human controllers what a "lesbian" was.

"The task of tolerance is indeed far from being over. The human mind has not yet triumphed over the darkest parts of the human heart, those of prejudice, unreasoning fear, and blind hatred." There is, after all, a reason the Yeerks are steadily taking this planet.

"Paranoid fear of all those different from us, and the hatred that is borne of it, have their roots in a basic ignorance of all others who are not like us. Human society evolved from early tribal groups to the globe-spanning civilization it is today." I think I slipped and let a slight sneer enter my voice on the words "globe-spanning civilization." It was hardly an impressive phrase for one who had memories, through his host, of the glories of Andalite civilization. And Yeerk.

"We learned to keep to our own kind, to not trust others, for others were part of rival groups. And, unfortunately, the situation has continued thus, century after century, though the need for it has long since passed, allowing primitive superstition and intolerance to infect even our global society today." The sneer had been definite that time. I paused for a moment, looked over my audience. No negative effects were obvious. Some of the young humans were even nodding vigorously. As if they agreed with my condescending attitude. I continued with the speech, trying not to let my puzzlement show.

"The Sharing stands for tolerance – but not this empty, false tolerance we see in so many other places. The Sharing will not pay lip service to the idea of human equality and then exclude people on an arbitrary basis. And as a corollary, neither will her members. Think on your own life. Is there someone in your school, at your job, in your home, who is different from you? I know the answer is yes. And tell me: do you accept them? Do you tolerate their different-ness? Or do you ridicule it? Do you make fun of their 'un-cool' clothes? Do you sneer at their 'cool' clothes because they are 'preps'? Do you look down on them for their skin color, their ethnicity, their religious creed? Do you avoid them because they are gay? If so, then _you_, my friend, are not tolerant!" I paused, letting the words reverberate. The young humans seemed shaken. Doubtless, their answers to the second question had been "yes." If this is any fair representation of human society, I really don't see how they've _survived_ so many millennia of 'civilization'.

"The Sharing stands for radical tolerance – total equality, total acceptance. Only those who hold to this ideal have what it takes to live as a human in the twenty-first century. And only those people have what it takes to join the Inner Sharing. Young and old, black and white, gay and straight, strict religionist and atheist; all are welcome here. The only ones _not_ welcome here are those who do not welcome others. Because at the Sharing, we stand on what is right and what is just."

I stood back from the podium to thunderous applause from half the audience. The other half, which had been looking nearly asleep, awoke to the noise of their peers' approval and began to clap as well, looking a bit dazed. I stood back, and observed all, and smiled inwardly.

All in all, it was one of the better responses to my drivel. Half the Sharing cells have Outer members too apathetic to do more than clap politely.

Chapman, one of my lieutenants – a human controller, obviously – stepped up to the podium and flipped on the microphone, a device of human invention for amplifying sound. I pride myself on never having used a microphone to do my public speaking. My voice carries itself well enough.

"Well, that concludes this week's meeting. Let's give another round of applause for our excellent speaker and President, Mr. Visser." The room erupted in applause again, louder this time. I took the opportunity to glare briefly at Chapman. He turned back to the microphone hurriedly.

"Yes, well, and that concludes our meeting. Outer members may leave, or you may stay until the conclusion of the Inner Sharing meeting. Our recreation hall is still open. Full members, please follow Mr. Visser and me to the meeting room." About a dozen "full members" – controllers – turned to walk with us. Most had been standing behind me during my speech (looking very serious and tolerant, no doubt). As I was in the front of the line, with my back to everyone else, I rolled my eyes.

Conquest through speech-making.

Once the last controller had filed into the meeting room and shut the door, Chapman turned to me with a very serious look on his face. While this creature's self-satisfied conviction of his own importance usually infuriates me, what he said next took all my attention:

"Visser, we have reports of possible treason within the Sharing organization."

Annoyance sublimed to anger.

"Treason," I repeated. And presumably, as he'd taken the trouble of involving me rather than overseeing the offender's execution himself, as or higher in the ranks of leadership than he. "At what level in the Sharing's hierarchy?"

"Er…quite high, Visser."

"How large a setback – and why didn't you find it sooner?" That last was nearly unneeded, a billow of escaping anger. No matter. Such things keep my subordinates on their toes.

"It concerns a Sharing group in a human city around twenty miles away, Visser. Quite disturbing, quite – "

"What nature of treason? Details." Chapman flinched – somehow satisfying and enraging at the same time.

"Visser…we have been hearing reports…"

I glared at him and began to demorph.

"…possible sympathies for host species…" Humans. He meant humans. My stalk eyes emerged.

"…purposely turning outer members away…"

My brain was shocked into its normal three hundred sixty degrees of vision.

"Who is responsible for this Sharing group?"

"A Temrash 213. He is the traitor as well, Visser. Excellent record until now – seems to be on track for a position as sub-Visser. We've heard – rumors – "

Why is my time being taken up with hearsay? I demanded as my human mouth disappeared and blue fur began to lace over my face and arms.

"Mere precaution, Visser…I thought you would be angry if we waited later…"

Report, then, I barked. My human clothing, a customary artificial skin covering, disappeared, incorporated into my morph. This annoyed me at that moment, though I'm not sure why.

"Very well…our information comes from a lieutenant of Temrash 213. The traitor is head of the Sharing in , as you already know. The lieutenant says there is a large number of children" (I let the human term slide) "told to leave the Sharing – "

What? More in confusion than in anger, that.

"Yes, Visser – told to _leave_. Counter-productivity. Sympathy to host species. Insubordination…"

Chapman spent some time listing off treason charges. I had heard them all before, and I found Chapman's voice—his host's voice, of course – the human Chapman's voice – parroting the list off to be annoying.

My tail was the last bit of Andalite to emerge from the human morph. I flexed it outward – stretching down toward the floor – limbering the appendage. The tail, as you should know, is the Andalite Warrior's main biological weapon. Shredders will carry you far – but tail-to-blade is considered the true test of a Warrior's mettle. My stalk eyes, looking behind me, caught the glare of fluorescent lighting off the sharp, scythe-like blade.

I turned my attention back to Chapman.

"…and as it seems, Temrash 213 has – quite without explanation – changed even the nature of the Sharing organization that he is in charge of. There is less recruiting of new members. More resources to irrelevant funds. Sabotage."

Sabotage? To what end? What does this Temrash 213 hope to gain? 

"Unsure, Visser, but he's a threat."

A threat. 

"A major threat. According to Jerem 544, that is."

Jerem 544? 

"Temrash 213's lieutenant, Visser."

Ah. 

I decided that the two-month schedule could be bumped up here. Temrash was about to receive a very surprising visit.


End file.
